Kiss the Rain Read online

  “We had a discrepancy with two interviews in London but I’ve taken care of it.”

  “I have no doubts you take very good care of my schedule.”

  “I do try.”

  “Khandi mentioned there was a, um, misunderstanding during your conversation?”

  “Oh, is that what she called it?” Roger laughed, a sound Eve rarely heard from him. “I call it watching a funny Orbit commercial and talking out loud.”

  Eve giggled with him and looked up to find Khandi draped in the doorframe, her long brown straight hair tucked behind one ear, her brow raised questioningly. “Not in so many words. I’ll be sure to have a word with her.”

  “Great. Now get to work. Chat later.”

  Eve disconnected the call and turned her attention to e-mails, knowing her silence would torture Khandi. “Could you get me the full body shots of the latest models? Oh, and get Roger back on the line for me. I ditched the old prop crew after the fiasco last year and he’s recommended someone out of London. I almost forgot that I need to chat with him about her work before I decide to hire her for the London show.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No. Bring me the sketches for Milan and Paris. I’m not happy with one of the gowns. Thinking about switching a few.”

  “And?”

  Eve studied her over the monitor, fighting back the trapped grin. “A cup of coffee?”

  Eve smiled. God, she loved her life. The perfect career with all the bumps and bruises, a perfect assistant to torture and tease, the very one who kept Eve on her toes and doubled over with laughter, and the perfect sex life with a woman she’d never have to kick out of her bed.

  Life couldn’t get any more perfect than that.

  Chapter Three

  Jodi eyed the short woman heading her way. Despite a pleasant smile and a sparkle in her blue eyes, something in the attendant’s manner had Jodi squeezing the arms of the spa chair. It wasn’t the sexy twist of hips that had Jodi on the verge of racing from the room; it was the bowl in her grasp. The heap of green gloop resembled guacamole, and though it would be a tasty treat, she knew the concoction wasn’t edible. Jodi mentally came up with a thousand excuses why she shouldn’t stay seated any longer as the woman came to an easy stop beside her.

  Jodi raised a brow as the woman placed the bowl on the table and gave her a nod. “Hi. My name’s Rachel. I’ll be your esthetician today. We’re going to start with a thorough cleansing followed by a skin analysis to determine what exfoliations we’ll be using on you. You ready to begin?”

  The technician might as well have spoken Greek for all the sense she made. Jodi stared dumbfounded. With or without Amelia giggling beside her, what madness had possessed her to step foot inside a damn girly spa?

  Amelia’s giggles turned into laughter. “It’s mud, chickenshit. It’s for your foot massage. It takes away all the nasty dead skin.” She patted Jodi’s hand as if that would ease the chill of being out of her element. “It’s not poison. I promise.”

  Normally, Jodi wouldn’t have given in to Amelia’s pleas to spend the day getting shit caked on her face or an emery board swiped under her nails or, God forbid, someone touching her feet, but last night’s date, surrounded by women who wouldn’t see crow’s feet for years, made her think twice about Amelia’s invitation.

  Jodi kept her gaze trained on the petite beautician, who removed plastic sticks from the drawer as carefully as a dental assistant setting up for oral surgery.

  Amelia cackled. “The expression on your face is priceless. Damn, where’s my Kodak when I need it?”

  Jodi kept a wary eye on the contents. “Shut up, Amelia.”

  “All right, sourpuss, do tell. What pushed my butch best friend into the throes of the dreaded day spa?” Amelia lay back while her own attendant cleansed her face with a long cotton pad. Jodi’s beautician squirted something toxic onto a cotton ball. “Did someone point out the permanent wrinkle between your eyes?”

  Jodi studied Amelia, how her body lounged and relaxed as her aide expertly circled the pad. “First off, I don’t have a permanent anything between my eyes, thank you very much. Second, even if I did, no one would be brave enough to point it out.” Despite her vehement denial, she self-consciously rubbed the indention between her eyes.

  “Oooh. Aren’t you the tough dyke? And what’s wrong with growing old gracefully?” Amelia chuckled as Jodi’s attendant stepped beside the chair and motioned for her to lie back.

  Jodi ignored Amelia’s question as she tried to get comfy, mainly because graceful didn’t have anything to do with the age spots appearing along the edge of her hairline. Not only was she growing old, she was aging alone. She might have Amelia, but she couldn’t curl up with her best friend on rainy days, couldn’t wake in a tangle of arms and legs after a sleepless night of making love.

  So where was her soul mate? Where was that person who would love her unconditionally? Had she passed Jodi by while she had a client spread out like a feast, while she fattened her savings?

  The esthetician touched Jodi’s face with something soft. Jodi jerked back and gave the woman a hard look. “Is this going to peel off the top five layers of my face? Will I be beet red for a year?”

  “No, darling, it’s just a cleanser. We wouldn’t dream of peeling your face off until it’s squeaky clean.” A mischievous grin broke across her lips while Amelia and her attendant laughed.

  Jodi had no choice but to laugh along, the act relaxing her otherwise jammed nerves. “Ha ha, funny.” She attempted to set her breathing back to normal.

  “There you go. Just relax.” She placed a hair band around Jodi’s head that instantly made her feel constricted. And feminine. This shit was for girls, not tough butches.

  She closed her eyes just as Amelia snickered. “Don’t you look cute with that pretty purple band in your hair?”

  Jodi lifted her hand and shot her a bird while her mind screamed to jerk the damn thing off her scalp. Too afraid she’d fall into Amelia’s plot, she stilled the impulse as the attendant’s thigh brushed her arm. Her nipples peaked in instant awareness. A feminine body always had a way of calming her. She resisted opening her eyes to see if the action had been deliberate.

  “Are you asking me to sit and spin on that finger of yours?” Amelia purred in her mocking Cinderella tone. “Got something a little bigger?”

  “Yeah, my fist, for that mouth.” The aide continued working the cotton pad across Jodi’s face. She laid her arm back on the rest as those thighs pressed harder against her upper arm. Deliberate indeed. Heat flooded her crotch. Maybe this trip to the spa wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

  “I know somewhere else you can put it,” Amelia teased. Fact was, Amelia was straight as a stick. Though they’d shared desk space to tease and torture their phone customers all those years ago, it was deep throats and ball-massaging techniques Amelia had described to her male clients. Just as Amelia tuned in to guys, Jodi had known her sexuality from the second little Emily Peterson had shared her chocolate milk at recess on the military base in South Carolina. Girls were far easier to play with. Guys were just rough jerks. It didn’t take her too many years to figure out girls smelled delicious and tasted just as enticing.

  “You couldn’t handle me. I’d put your boy toys to shame.”

  “Pussy.”

  “I’m gonna show you pussy.”

  “Hold that image for your birthday party. Lordy, Lordy, Jodi’s forty. You old ass,” she said with an evil laugh.

  Jodi huffed. Leave it to Amelia to slap the reality on with a trowel. “Keep it up over there, Ms. Forty-two. And change the subject, for shit’s sake.”

  “Ooh, did I tickle your clit the wrong way?”

  Both attendants snickered.

  Fact was her clit wasn’t getting tickled, flicked, sucked, or even massaged by anyone other than herself. She didn’t allow herself two-way satisfaction and definitely didn’t exchange delicate kisses, not even in heated passion. Such acts were for p
ersonal dates only. Maybe that’s what she needed—a good fuck to flush out the new obsession with her looks. Since when did she start caring about her appearance or how many wrinkles she had? She looked good, and she knew it. Four to five times a week she worked out until sweat gleamed off her well-deserved six-pack. Okay, so she only exerted herself for all the women ogling from their treadmills, but that didn’t change the outcome. She was in damn good shape and had looks to complete the package. Her fat bank account only proved the theory. She had steady “dates,” ones who always came back for more. Obviously, they didn’t care about that damn frown line snaking along her forehead, or those faint laugh lines spreading around her temples like crevices, the ones that grew deeper with every passing year.

  “Let’s talk about your good news and lay off my aging skin.” Jodi switched gears, determined to get her mind off her dreaded birthday. She’d been determined to fight old age all the way to the grave. Little did she know it would involve mudpacks and toxic cleansers.

  “I just signed a temporary contract with one of the hottest designers the fashion world has ever seen.”

  “No fucking way.” Jodi practically jerked to a sitting position, but a soft hand pressed her back down. Maybe that same hand could press her thighs apart later tonight, make her forget her clock was ticking faster by the day. “With whom?”

  “Don’t get your briefs in a wad. Some hard-ass bitch out of New York City, who, rumor has it, is almost impossible to work for. I’ve heard all about her. She just fired my biggest competitor. She leaves no room for flaws, and that alone makes me nervous enough to fuck up everything. I almost backed out after my brutal and nerve-racking conference call with her yesterday, then I thought of all that lovely money and the vacations I can spend it on if I can snag a permanent spot in her events.”

  “No sweat. You got this bitch in the bag. Your work’s impeccable.” Jodi didn’t like the concern in Amelia’s voice. She was protective and didn’t like when Amelia put herself down, especially when she’d worked so damn hard to make an honest woman of herself. She hadn’t seen her get so nervous in a long time. This high-rolling New Yorker must be some kind of anal perfectionist to make Amelia that worried. “She’ll be honored to have your props on her set.”

  “Aww. You’re sweet and I love you, which is why you’re going to be my sidekick.”

  “What?” This time Jodi came to a full sitting position, almost knocking the astringent-soaked pad from the beautician’s grasp. “No, but hell no! I refuse to let you drag me into a world of outrageously self-obsessed designers who have no grounding in the real world. The models gross me out. They’re like walking skeletons. Who’d want to fuck something so fragile? I’d break them.” Jodi gave a low growl. She’d clawed her way through hell to keep meat on her bones. She couldn’t fathom anyone starving herself to sashay down a catwalk for some fashion mongrel. “Not to mention I don’t know a damn thing about designing props.”

  Amelia remained comfy and serene, never even opened her eyes. “Who said anything about you designing anything or fucking a so-called pencil stick model? I don’t need your brain, sweetie. I just need those biceps.”

  Once again, the attendants snorted.

  Jodi eyed her own aide and slowly lay back down. “You’re supposed to be on my side here, not hers. That giggle’s coming out of your tip.” Jodi winked playfully before she closed her eyes and gave in to the woman’s soft caresses. A thigh brushed her arm again. Jodi cracked an eye open and found the woman’s expression all business as she worked the pad against her flesh.

  Okay, so she wouldn’t have a date tonight. Or a well-needed fuck. But soon. Soon she was going to need sexual relief. If only to take her mind off the loneliness.

  “You ready for that Brazilian wax now? It won’t hurt a bit. I promise,” Rachel teased her.

  Amelia spewed while Jodi scowled and held her hand protectively over her crotch. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

  *

  Eve shifted in her seat. She hated flying. Not to mention a seven-hour flight across the Atlantic. She was always convinced her day was marked while over the choppy waters down below. Flying was a necessity to her career, so she reined in her fear every flight and said a silent prayer the plane would implode on impact, that she’d never know what hit her.

  Khandi hummed to her iPod beside her, sometimes singing out loud, which had people turning around to give dirty looks. Eve thought about poking her to end the torture but knew she would only deliberately sing louder and more out of tune. God forbid.

  To take her mind off the turbulence, Eve opened her laptop and studied the twelve sketches she’d chosen for the London event. Her stomach knotted with excitement as she studied the creations. Her creations. The final breathtaking product awaited her in London, along with her beloved seamstress. Francesca had been a doll all these years, putting up with Eve’s last-minute changes, sometimes expecting them, yet rarely complaining.

  When work couldn’t hold Eve’s attention, she put the computer away and closed her eyes. She allowed Lexi’s image to blossom in her mind. It was after a rough day like today, when problems seemed to pop up out of nowhere, especially when her fear was spiked to the limits over salty waters, that she sought Lexi’s attention, her voice, and her commands. Knowing what those seductive demands could bring her made her ache for the sound of Lexi all the more.

  Eve instinctively reached for her cell phone, then remembered she was flying far above the Atlantic. “Shit.” She huffed, needing that sexy accent to take her away.

  Khandi shifted and nudged Eve. The smartass pointed to the flight phone with a knowing sarcastic grin.

  Eve rolled her eyes. The bitch. Why, again, had she shared her secret with Khandi? That she phoned a woman halfway across the world several times a week just to melt in her sexy voice, to follow her commands, to come screaming by her orders? She knew she could trust Khandi with her personal business, always had been able to, but the fact that Khandi could tease and torture her with her own weakness, and did as often as possible, was something she hadn’t thought through before she’d blurted out her secret.

  Khandi pushed the ear buds back in and started rocking her head, gradually kicking up the volume of her voice. A woman in the seat in front of them turned around to glare again, her lips set tight and an ugly frown line creased on her forehead. Khandi waved and gave her an angelic smile, then continued singing, as if someone else was the intended target of the woman’s glare.

  Eve blew out a breath and turned toward the window, to the clouds and water below. With every passing minute she was getting closer to that other side of the world, where “her” Lexi lived, walked, and worked daily, doing only God knew what. Eve was going to be inside her city, possibly passing her on the streets without being the wiser. Would she be as sexy as her mind had conjured? Or would she be as grotesque as her evil twin had predicted? It was a fact she’d never know. She couldn’t handle being the brunt of Khandi’s mockery, or her own for that matter, if she were to come face-to-face with that proof.

  Eve tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair.

  Khandi giggled and Eve turned an impatient stare on her. “Here, do it. You know you want to. I’ll even crank my music louder so you can have your privacy. Oh, Lexi! Oh, Lexiiiii.” Khandi threw her head back, her lips parted in fake ecstasy.

  Eve slapped her hand over Khandi’s mouth, controlling the impulse to wrap the headphone cords around her neck to see how pretty blue oxygen-deprived lips would match her shit brown eyes.

  “You’re pushing it, lint licker.” Eve removed her hand and pushed the phone away while Khandi broke into laughter. A man dressed in a deep gray business suit turned from his laptop and gave them a “shut the fuck up” scowl. Khandi waved at him too.

  Eve eased higher in her seat and looked down the aisle for the flight attendant. A drink was what she needed, anything to take away the constant throb in her crotch. Was this addiction? This gnawing need rooted so deep in her consciou
sness. In her pussy. She could take care of her own sexual frustrations. Had done it for many years. She didn’t need Lexi, or her voice, to extinguish the burning sensations. So why was Lexi the one she sought? Why was Lexi’s voice the one she craved?

  “Here. If you’re going to be a dud with the phone, at least read some London gossip.” Khandi tossed a magazine in her lap. “Maybe the hottie escorting Ms. Carlotta Tate down the red carpet will ease your…needs. Rumor has it she’s an escort, like a real paid, fuck ’em for my paycheck escort.”

  Without looking, Eve pushed the tabloid away. She didn’t give a shit who did what in London. Right now, all she cared about was getting some alone time with her cell phone and that voice that seduced her into submission.

  *

  Jodi ran the feather duster over the bookcase shelves, then turned to the coffee table while Erica moaned into the phone.

  “That’s it. Fuck yourself harder, faster.” Jodi finished dusting the table and began on the flat screen TV set against the outer living room wall of windows. Night flickered beyond the glass.

  She stopped to look out over the bright white lights while Erica panted heavily. Every room in the condo held a panoramic view of the vast city below with floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall windows. It was the feature that had sold her on the apartment. Hell, it was the deciding factor when she opted to buy the whole building.

  The openness made her feel free and never constricted.

  “Lexi. God, it feels so good.”

  Jodi moved away from the window with the sound of her name. The living room stretched to the right and left, a cream-colored extra-long couch dominating the opposite wall. Matching artsy scoop-back chairs dotted the corners and either side of the entertainment center. The only color in the room was from the jade green pillows scattered on the couch.

  The room looked clean. Made her feel clean.

  “Lexi, I’m coming!” Erica’s moans erupted down the line.